“Dad,” she warned. “I don’t need your help with this.”
There was a long pause. “Remember back when you were ten, and there was a shooting at that bank on Twenty-Fourth?”
An old feeling of unease tiptoed down Cora’s spine. “Of course, I remember. Your partner took a bullet in the chest and almost died.” She hadn’t slept well for weeks after she found out. They’d even visited his partner in the hospital afterward. Cora remembered how the man looked, lying there on the bed, skin as pale as the sheet covering him. He’d had dark circles under his eyes, and he was hooked up to an IV and machines that beeped. Even though the man rallied and forced a smile during their visit, Cora had hated being there because it reminded her of her mother dying from cancer when she was much younger. It reminded her how easily it could’ve been her father in that room. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I never told you this, but he saved my life. It would’ve been me in the line of fire, but he jumped in the way to block the bullet.”
“Oh, my God.” Shock rippled through her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were ten years old,” Hugh said, as if that were all the explanation he needed to give. “I wasn’t going to give you any more reasons to worry. Not after you’d already lost your mother.”
Cora shook her head in annoyance. “But you could’ve told me later. I’m twenty-five, for God’s sake. It never occurred to you to bring that up?”
“Frankly, no. It wasn’t relevant, but I’m bringing it up now.” Hugh’s voice took on an authoritative edge.
Cora gritted her teeth. Yet another thing that drove her crazy about her dad. He was always trying to shield her from things, even though she was a grown woman who could handle her own emotions. She’d been five when she lost her mother. It had been hard, and Cora secretly believed her father never really recovered from it, but she’d been in kindergarten back then. That was decades ago, and she didn’t need him to shield her anymore.
“Remember how my partner retired after that and moved away to Raleigh?” Hugh continued. “Well, he had a son back in Ireland from a previous marriage. His son moved to the US years ago and ended up becoming a cop like his dad. His name’s Liam O’Connor. He’s been on the force in Raleigh for the past few years, and he’s the one transferring to your station. I promised his father I’d look out for him, so I mentioned you having room at your house—”
“Dad!” Cora flung a hand up in exasperation. Already miffed at him for not telling her about the shooting, this just added to it. “You shouldn’t have said anything without asking me first. I get that you want to do your old partner a favor, but it’s not your call. Choosing a roommate is personal. I’ll take care of it myself.”
“There’s no need for you to go looking when I’ve already found the perfect solution,” he insisted. She could tell he felt strongly about it, which had to be a manifestation of his old sense of loyalty toward his ex-partner, but that didn’t mean she had to fall in line with his plan.
Cora sighed heavily as her dad launched into a detailed explanation of all the reasons she should take his advice. She suddenly felt like a bristling teenager again, and it only made her more determined to do things her own way. Her father tended to roll through life like a bulldozer. He was the type of man who said or did whatever he needed to, without worrying about the aftermath. When it came to giving orders and getting his way, Hugh McLeod took no prisoners. But what made him good at his job didn’t always transfer well to parenting. He used to drive Cora nuts growing up, until she realized his overbearing and protective nature stemmed from a combination of love and fear. He’d already lost his wife, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing his daughter. But she was a grown woman now, with a career and a life all her own, and she would make her own decisions. Besides, the last thing she needed was a roommate who both lived and worked with her. That was just way too close for comfort. If this was her dad’s mission tonight, then he was going to be sorely disappointed. She lifted her chin and prepared to butt heads with the bulldozer.
3
Waking up to birdsong in one’s ears was normally a pleasant experience, but this bird sounded like a harpy. Its rhythmic squawking grew louder with every passing moment until Liam felt like it was screeching from inside his skull. He cracked open one eye and stared at the flashing electronic clock on the table next to him. Not pausing to wonder how he knew exactly what it was, he slapped the alarm off and rolled onto his back with a groan.
A familiar floral scent enveloped him. Liam rubbed his face and slowly opened his eyes. The ceiling above him was pristine, white and perfectly smooth, like the surface of a frozen pond on a winter day. He shifted on the plush mattress, recognizing at once that it was nothing like any bed he’d ever slept in before. The robin’s-egg blue sheets were soft, and the warm body beside him, softer. He squinted at the woman’s lush black hair fanned out on the pillow, taking in the delicate slope of her bare shoulder and the supple curve of her hip under the sheets.
His mouth curved in appreciation. Sure, he’d been thrust into the future with a ridiculous task, and he was in danger of suffering the eternal fires of hell if he didn’t succeed, but he had to give the angels some credit. Waking up with a lovely woman in his bed was a damned fine way to begin. Maybe they were giving him some encouragement. Maybe they just wanted him to embrace this new life with passion and enthusiasm.
Rising to his elbow, he peered at her sleeping face, instantly recognizing the woman as his on-again, off-again mistress from his former life. Margaret Brady wasn’t the type of woman a man could easily forget. She’d been beautiful back then, and clearly her reincarnated self hadn’t changed. He wondered if she still had that same come-hither smile, or those skillful hands, or—more importantly—if she was married in this life, too. The memory of Margaret’s cold, calculating husband was like a bucket of ice water over his head.
Liam rubbed a hand over his throat, confused and somewhat frustrated at finding himself in bed with Margaret. Was it some kind of joke, then? Were the angels watching him, laughing from up above in their mist-filled room? He sat up and took in his surroundings.
The plush furniture and lustrous fabric were distinctly feminine, with soft colors and ruffled cushions making it clear to Liam he was in Margaret’s bedroom. In the past, she’d loved flowers and plants, and she’d been renowned for her beautiful gardens. It seemed her love of nature was still strong. There were floral paintings on the walls, and the cushioned chairs near the windows were covered in a leafy vine pattern. One of the side tables held a huge crystal vase filled with blooms. A framed photograph on the wall caught Liam’s attention. It showed Margaret as a bride in a white lacy gown, standing beside a smiling, older man Liam recognized. It was her same husband from the past, only this man in the picture seemed more relaxed and happy.